Survival of the Fittest
by DiabloCat
Summary: A now not-so-short action story involving a young man, an accident, a never before considered career, a bunch of Covenant and a whole lot of mayhem!
1. The Beginning

DiabloCat: Short story, also dug up from my older files. It was intended to be a series, but I never got around to finishing it. It makes a pretty good story on its own, however.

SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

"Hey Sarge! I think I saw this one twitch!"

"Well, make sure then! Check his pulse, remember?"

"Yes sir, right away sir."

A bright light flashed through his eyelids, sending pain crackling through his skull. He tried to speak, to tell them to turn their stupid lights off, but all that came out was a strangled moan.

"Yep, this one's definitely alive. Do you have a porta-stretcher?"

"Here private. Be careful, you don't know how badly injured he might be."

Warm fingers probing, gently checking his condition.

"He looks okay. A couple of scrapes and bruises, and a helluva lump on his head, but that's about it."

"Yeah, well, we'll leave that for the medics to decide, Jackson. Now hurry up. We don't have long."

He felt himself being carefully lifted, and placed on rough fabric. With a jolt, he started to move. A whirring sound filled the air. He tried to open his eyes. It felt like they were glued shut. Finally, after a great effort, his lids lifted. A rough face filled his vision.

"It's alright son. We're taking you to the hospital." This sounded like an explanation, but so much information was missing. He tried to speak, but black waves fell across his vision, and he passed out.

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After four days in the hospital, he was starting to get irritated. The first day was spent unconscious. The second day he finally woke, to find several faces staring at him. They asked him a few questions, checked whether he had concussion or not and generally left him alone. On the third day, all hell broke loose.

A bunch of important looking officials barged in, and started interrogating him. What were you doing out there? Who was in command? Who was the driver? Did you see any Covenant? Why did you crash? His head was still spinning with all the enquiries!

At this point, a nurse walked in, interrupting his mutinous thoughts. He glared at her.

"Yes?" His voice was tight with frustration and restlessness. The nurse merely smiled at him.

"I daresay you're getting tired of this place, huh? Don't worry, I'm here to give you a short test, then you can go." He sighed. Finally, he could go and start up his life again.

"Okay, first question: what is your name?"

"My name is Jason Mac Taylors."

"Your age?"

"I'm 18 this December."

"Where do you live?"

"At the Trader's Complex, south of Primary Base. Sub-base 4 is only two jumps away to the left.

"Occupation?"

"I'm an apprenticed Trader, also provide a bit of security for the ships."

The nurse smiled at him.

"Well, you seem to be just fine. Okay, you're free to go. Some clothes are in the bathroom, and present this card to the attendant at the desk. Well, hurry up Taylors!"

Taylors was dressed and ready in record time. He strolled down to the desk, and waved his card under the attendant's nose.

"Jason Mac Taylors, now exiting!"

But, five metres from the door, everything went wrong.

The door exploded in a flash that sprayed shrapnel everywhere. Taylors instinctively flung himself down, arms around his head for protection. When things seemed to have quieted down slightly, he raised his head – and saw a nightmare.

A small army of Covenant had stealthily slipped through the base's defences, and were now in the centre of the base, and attacking everything in sight. Taylors froze for a moment, then came rapidly back to life as he rolled aside to avoid a plasma burst that melted the floor next to him.

He glanced around frantically, and grabbed the first thing he saw – a 5 foot pole. As a Grunt charged at him, shrieking, he twisted, rammed the pole through its gut and flipped the Grunt into its partner.

The attendant was lying slumped in a pool of blood, so he assumed she was out of commission. Outside, there were sounds of gunfire and shouting, so the Marines must have caught onto what was happening.

Taylors turned, meaning to find somewhere he could make a stand, and found himself face-to-face with an Elite with a nasty grin on its face.

The Elite was a recently promoted Commander, and determined to make his first official assault a successful one. He leered at the puny Human, who dared molest him, armed with a pathetic stick. His scorn swiftly changed to surprise and then outrage as the Human ducked down, and shoved the stick into a place most Humans would not appreciate. Unluckily for Taylors, Elites, although they look fairly humanoid, have a few different features. One of those is the location of the reproductive system. In other words – he missed.

Taylors recovered from his initial surprise that the Elite didn't crumple quite quickly. He had to, to avoid the swipe the Elite took at him. Quickly he wedged the stick between its legs and twisted, throwing the Elite off balance. He then smacked it full in the face with the stick. It roared in anger and fired wildly, trying to make him move away. But Taylors kept swinging, driving the Elite backwards. When it was in position he gave one final whack, and knocked the Elite over.

Onto the exposed electrical wire that had been severed by plasma shot.

Taylors turned away from the fried Elite, and gazed around. Most of the other Covenant had been subdued, having underestimated the ferocity of the Humans.

A Marine Commander walked in, and surveyed the damage Taylors had done. He raised his eyebrows.

"I say! Looks like you could have finished off this attack by yourself!" The Commander grinned, inviting Taylors to share the joke. Taylors smiled weakly. His legs were just realising how close they had come to being cannon fodder.

"Well, I don't often say this, but you look like a natural to me. I'd suggest looking for a post in the Marine Corps. We need fighters like you, boy! After all, it's survival of the fittest out here. Just think about it." The Commander strolled away to check up on the others.

Taylors shook his head and chuckled quietly. "Survival of the fittest. If that's the case, why the hell am I still standing?"

DiabloCat: There are probably a thousand errors dedicated Halo players will point out to me. Oh well. I hope it was enjoyable nevertheless.


	2. Career Choice

DiabloCat: I surveyed the other chapters to this story and decided that, although it ultimately wasn't finished, I could add a few more chapters up to a certain point. So here they are.

CHAPTER 2: ALL IN A DAY'S WORK (FOR A MARINE)

"Samina?"

"Here."

"Shayt?"

"Here."

"Taylors?"

"Here."

Taylors fiddled with a loose thread in his uniform. He still couldn't get over the fact he was actually a Marine! He had spent a good deal of his life as a Trader apprentice/guard, but this was totally different. He had applied for the post after having to defend a hospital from a Covenant raiding party, armed only with a stick. He had decided he needed better training. So here he was.

The sergeant finished doing roll-call and straightened up. Taylors dragged his mind back to the present.

"Okay men, you know the task. We are to scout an old Covenant base. It was destroyed a few days ago, and we are to mop up any survivors, and salvage any interesting looking material. But be cautious! You don't know what all their stuff can do. And look sharp people! I don't care how lazy you are, we are walking there, no questions!"

A slightly slow Marine groaned. The sergeant turned on him instantly.

"What's the matter? Don't you like walking? I suppose you think we should be flown there in a comfy Pelican? Has it occurred to you that out here we are short on equipment and that they are needed for more important things than transporting sluggish Marines to an abandoned base? Well?"

The stunned Marine merely shook his head.

"Well that's the situation! Now MOVE OUT!"

They moved into a line, two abreast. Taylors ended up next to an unknown Marine. The Marine turned, and briefly shook his hand,

"Hi. I'm Jackson. Resident Covenant expert. How about you?"

"Taylors. I'm a frontline scout." Jackson looked at him almost curiously.

"Taylors. I've heard that name before. Hey, wait, you're the guy who-"

"Yeah, I know, I fought off an entire army of Covenant, consisting of 70 Banshees and 200 Ghosts."

Jackson laughed. "No, I mean, I was in the rescue party that found your wrecked ship. You had a big lump on your head. But yeah, I have heard about the hospital incident."

"Who hasn't? But, geez, all I did was take down two Grunts and an Elite! That's nothing!"

"Ah, but you're forgetting you did it with a stick."

Taylors was about to retort when the sergeant yelled at them to shut up or he'd feed them to the Covenant, blah, blah, blah. After an hour or so, the sergeant gave the order for them to form battle lines. As a frontline scout, Taylors was in the front row. They would proceed first, clearing the way, and checking for any danger. Then came the main force of Marines. Next were those who were needed for business other than fighting, such as Jackson. Lastly came the snipers, who would fall back, and attack from a distance.

Up ahead was the base. At first glance it seemed deserted, but they had all learned to be cautious. Taylors and the rest of the frontline scouts advanced on the sergeant's signal. Keeping his weapon pointing ahead, he looked around the building. A few objects were scattered here and there, nothing very dangerous looking. The leader of the scouts reported back to the sergeant, who then proceeded forward with the rest of the troops.

It was like this for several more rooms. Jackson and the other experts salvaged numerous items, but there was no sign of any hostile forces.

Then a scout spotted something. The sergeant rushed over.

"Yes, what is it Nira?"

The scout turned, her grey eyes worried. "Well, I was walking past that cabinet thing, and I swear I heard something suspiciously like a Jackal. And there's a long crack in the wall."

No one doubted her. Sally Nira had the keenest eyes and ears on the force. The sergeant huffed slightly, then called Jackson over to take a look. He knelt down, and examined it closely.

"Sir, I think Nira's found a hidden entrance to either a second Covenant base, or a small hideaway for important equipment."

"Can you open it Jackson?"

"No sir, you're gonna need someone better with mechanics for this."

"Very well, Collineer, get over here and see if you can bust this baby open. Everone else, stay on alert, I doubt the Covenant are going to appreciate us visiting."

Taylors readied his weapon, feeling slightly nervous. Here they were breaking into a facility that contained at least one Jackal, and probably more, and worse besides, and only he seemed to care.

Suddenly Collineer stepped backwards as the door slid back with a hiss, to reveal a sleepy looking Grunt. The Grunt looked at them, and ran shrieking down the passage.

"Okay people, we've rung the doorbell, now be ready." The sergeant was as brisk as ever. Taylors looked apprehensively down the corridor, just in time to see several Elites, Jackals and Grunts come charging down it.

At least seven Covenant were felled before they reached the opening, but the Marines also lost five to plasma rounds. Then the Covenant were in among them.

DiabloCat: Dun dun duuuuuun…


	3. The Price

DiabloCat: Yay, action. Halo stories are never complete without a bit of maniacal mayhem and destruction, right?

**Part 3: The price for nosiness**

"Holy hell!" came a scream from somewhere to his left. Taylors was too busy defending himself to be worried about any others. An Elite was charging at him. Taylors swiftly fired rounds from his assault rifle, concentrating on the head and chest areas. It faltered slightly, but still kept going. Eight feet from Taylors, its plasma armour flickered and disappeared, allowing several bullets to tear it open.

As Taylors turned to face his next opponent – a Jackal – he wondered why they had to open the stupid door anyway. Oh well, curiosity killed the cat, eh? The Jackal fired a few shots from its plasma pistol, but stayed hidden behind its circular shield. Unluckily for the Jackal, Taylors knew the method for cracking open tough cases. He charged forwards and thwacked the shield firmly with the butt of his assault rifle. The shield shattered, and the Jackal was flung backwards, allowing Taylors to stick a couple of bullets in it.

"God, they just keep coming!"

"Tham, behind you!

"Ahhhhh, get it off, get it off me!"

This last comment was made by an unfortunate Marine with a plasma grenade on him. The grenade went off, scattering bits and pieces everywhere. Taylors wiped a glob of blood off his helmet, shuddering in disgust. This feeling gave him an energy burst that took down three Grunts and two more Jackals.

A sudden scream tore through the air. It was drowned out by the blast of a fuel-rod. Taylors turned, knowing what he would see.

Four Hunters had emerged from the tunnel, and were ploughing their way through the terrified Marines. Taylors gulped, and took a step back. Hunters were 12 feet of armoured spikes and big guns. He flung himself sideways as a blast from the fuel-rod sped past, striking an Elite squarely in the stomach. Taylors rolled to his feet, just in time to see a Hunter charging straight for him.

The Hunter seemed intent on smashing him into a pulp. Taylors couldn't see any way out of this mess. He just started jogging backwards firing at the Hunter as he went. The Hunter raised one plasma-shod fist, and swiped at him. Taylors ducked, and the swipe took out a Grunt that was standing a little too close. Taylors took advantage of the distraction to try something he had seen on holo-vid. He dived through the Hunter's legs. It wheeled round, snorting in frustration.

Taylors flung himself upright and swung out wildly with his assault rifle, smacking the Hunter in the face. Normally this would have done nothing, but the Hunter was slightly off-balance. With a roar of anger, it toppled backwards. This gave Taylors time to ram a fragmentation grenade in the gap in the Hunter's armour. He turned and ran away; shouting out, "Get away! It's GONNA BLOW!"

An explosion tore through the air, carrying bits of Hunter with it. Taylors allowed himself a grin as he surveyed the damage. Two Elites and a Grunt had not heeded his warning, and were either dead or dying.

The sound of a sniper shot whistled through the air next to his ear. Taylors spun around to see the Hunter – standing right behind him, ready to attack – crumple silently. Taylors gazed around, looking for the shooter. A sniper winked at him from the ledge he was on. Taylors grinned back, but the smile faded from his face as he saw an Elite sneaking up behind the sniper. He opened his mouth to shout out a warning. But there was no need. As the Elite raised its weapon, the sniper shoved his gun backwards into it, then turned and fired at point blank range.

Now convinced the sniper could look after himself, Taylors looked around for another target. He spotted Jackson, who was in a bit of trouble. He was pinned up against a wall, besieged by four Elites. Taylors vaulted over to him, and cracked one Elite on the back, breaking its spine. The others spun around to meet their new attacker. Jackson leaped forwards, and blasted an Elite, sending it spinning into another. Taylors shot the remaining Elite, and turned to face Jackson, who was panting.

"You okay? They didn't get you did they?"

"Nah, I'm fine. Close call though. Whew, I thought I was Covenant chow. Thanks."

"No problem. Race you to that Grunt?"

"You're on!"

As he dashed towards the Grunt, who was now attempting to run in the opposite direction, Taylors glanced around. While the Humans were putting up a good fight, there were heavy casualties. The sergeant was down, taken out by the remaining Hunter. Many other Marines had been slain. 'How long can we go on like this?' he thought.

Suddenly a voice crackled into life in his helmet.

"Hello? Does anybody read me? This is Evac Squad. Is anybody alive down there"

Taylors literally screamed into his headset. "Yes, we ARE alive. This is Private Taylors reporting. The sergeant's down, and we need Evac NOW!"

"Okay, we're on the way. Fall back to the outside immediately. We will pick you up there."

Taylors turned to Jackson. "We need to get outside. An Evac squad is waiting." Jackson wasted no time.

"FALL BACK! GET OUTSIDE! FALL BACK!" he bellowed. The Marines that could still use their legs obeyed instantly, moving backwards, but still keeping up a heavy fire. The Covenant followed, firing as well.

Taylors felt better to be outside in the snow. The cave felt too much like a death trap. Which it had been, he mused. Too many Marines had found it so.

An enormous shadow fell across him, and he glanced up. Several dropships were slowly landing. The Marines gave a ragged cheer at the sight of the ships. Taylors shoved a couple of Marines, getting them moving. The Covenant pressed forward, enraged that their prey was escaping.

Taylors realized they were going to have to hold the Covenant off if any were to escape. He turned and fired, all the while shouting at the Marines to get a move on. A couple of them had followed his example and were firing at the Covenant, providing cover.

Finally, he and the other four helpers dashed towards the remaining dropship. Taylors looked at his partners and recognized Jackson, the scout Nira, the engineer Collineer and the sniper from the rocky ledge. Taylors slumped back in his seat. The pilot turned and grinned at them.

"Okay people, we're going up. Have no fear; Miranda Catters is your driver!"

With that enthusiastic comment, she flipped several switches; the ship hummed into life, and began to rise from the ground. As they began to move, Taylors felt an immense relief seep through him. They had survived, it was all over…

A motion detector bleeped as several red dots began moving on it.

"What is it?" asked Taylors, fearing the worst.

"Looks like we have a few Banshees on our tail." Said Catters grimly. Taylors groaned. Great. Just great.

DiabloCat: Ah, I just love torturing my poor characters.


	4. A Friendship Forged

DiabloCat: And more random mayhem. Y'know, looking back, I knew absolutely NOTHING about military procedures. Hell, I made most of it up! Ah well, nvm.

Great. Just great. Having just battled his way out of a base full of Covenant, Jason Mac Taylors was not in the mood to have a fire-fight with a bunch of Banshees. It wasn't fair! But, then again, since when was life fair?

The pilot, Miranda Catters, didn't seem too distressed, however. In fact, she was almost gleeful.

"Excellent! A bit of action at last! Hold on tight boyos and lady, we're in for some hurly-burly fun!" Taylors raised his eyebrows at Jackson, who shrugged in return. Neither of them knew what to make of their eccentric driver. One of the passengers, a sniper who had saved Taylors' life in the previous battle, leant forward.

"Don't worry; I've flown with Catters before. She's a natural pilot, if a bit reckless. By the way, I haven't introduced myself. Liam Mane, at your service." Taylors took the offered hand and shook it.

"Jason Taylors, at your's. That was a nice bit of shooting in at the base." Mane grinned.

"I like snipering. It's very satisfying." Mane then gave a yelp as the ship pitched sideways. "Hey, Catters, watch it!"

"Okay, I'll just let the plasma burst hit us next time, will I?" Catters snapped. Mane rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, just letting you know. No need to bite my head off." Taylors smiled distractedly, his mind concentrated on not falling out of his seat. The ship lurched again, throwing Jackson onto the floor. He staggered to his feet, only to be sent crashing into the wall as the ship tilted sharply.

"You okay Jackson?" Taylors inquired. Jackson glared at the back of Catters' seat.

"Yeah, I'm great. But you know, I'm -" Whatever Jackson was, it was lost in an explosion that rocked the ship. Jackson fell over again.

"What the hell was that?" yelled Collineer, a mechanical expert. Catters replied, her voice tight. "Another dropship. It didn't dodge fast enough." Taylors closed his eyes, trying not to think about the people in that ship. Jackson finally hauled himself into his seat. "Ugh," he muttered. "I have bruises on bruises. I demand a refund. This was supposed to be first class." Taylors grinned slightly. At least Jackson still had his sense of humour.

Sally Nira, a keen-eyed scout, shrieked as she looked out the window. Taylors twisted rapidly, and saw what had startled her. A Banshee had soared right up next to the ship, and the Elite driving was sneering at them through the port-hole. Taylors bounded over, flicked open the window, and blasted the Elite. It fell from the Banshee with a screech. The Banshee veered away, and crashed into another, sending both vehicles plummeting to the ground.

"Nice shot!" yelled Collineer over the sound of the crash. Taylors replied with a thumbs up. Another explosion shook the ship. "Damn," cried Catters. "There goes another dropship." At this rate, there'll be none left, thought Taylors.

Suddenly the ship spiralled to the left. Taylors, Mane, Jackson, Nira and Collineer were flung out of their seats and around the ship. When it righted itself, Taylors found himself lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Jackson straightened with a groan. "Ugh, I landed on something hard." A muffled voice sounded out. "Yeah, that was me. Now, get off my head!" Jackson leapt to his feet and pulled Mane to his feet. "Sorry mate. No hard feelings?" Mane merely glowered at him. Taylors sat up, and a sharp throb shot through the back of his head. He gasped in pain, and felt his with his hand. It came away sticky with blood.

Jackson saw Taylors grimace, and noticed the blood on his hand. He was beside his friend in a flash. "You're hurt!" Taylors shook his head, then immediately wished he hadn't. "Nah, it's nothing serious. Just a small cut or something." Nira was already on her feet, and berating Catters.

"What was that about? I sure hope it wasn't a stupid stunt!" Taylors had never seen Nira so furious.

"Stupid stunt! I just saved all our lives! That spiral was to avoid the biggest plasma burst I have ever seen!" Catters said indignantly. Nira rolled her eyes, but turned and sat down. Everyone clambered back into their seats. Jackson sighed.

"Y'know, maybe we should ask for seatbelts on these things." Mane shook his head. "There's no seatbelts due to the fatalities that occurred because Marines couldn't get out of the ship in time. The seatbelts slowed them down."

Taylors had things other than seatbelts on his mind. "Hey Catters! How many dropships are left?"

"Including us…two." Taylors winced. Only one other dropship had survived. "Okay, how much further?"

"Let's see. About… three jumps and we should be at Secondary Base. Let's hope we make it." Taylors leant back. Three jumps, and they'd be behind walls and big guns.

An explosion shook Taylors out of his daydream. The remaining dropship had been destroyed. "Oh, hell," whispered Collineer. Taylors took a deep breath, and willed himself not to panic.

"There it is!" screeched Catters. "Secondary Base is just up ahead! Okay people, hold on tight. I'm gonna have to do some fancy manoeuvring to get us down in one piece." Taylors grabbed onto the sides of his seat as the ship twisted and turned, skilfully avoiding plasma bursts.

All of a sudden, the sound of machine-gun fire tore through the air. Two Banshees went down instantly, and another veered drunkenly, before crashing into a cliff. The remaining Banshees tried to escape, but were brought down a combination of rocket launchers, snipers and LAAG guns.

The Marines cheered as Catters made her triumphant touchdown. Collineer was so ecstatic that he hugged Catters, and got a smack over the head in return. The Marine Corps at Secondary Base watched in silence as the weary, but victorious people stumbled down from the ship.

Taylors marched up to the sergeant present. "The remainder of Squadron 68, Investigation type, reporting for duty, sir!"

A few hours later, Taylors had just finished recounting their story. The Sergeant looked at him thoughtfully.

"I'd say you lot did pretty well, surviving that. The objects you managed to salvage look like they'll be some help too. You and the rest are dismissed. We'll call you up n the morning to decide what to do then. Now go and get some rest."

Taylors strolled out of the building, and towards the sleeping quarters, thinking wryly about the path his life had taken. From basic security to small-time hero to Marine – it was exhausting.

He never should have gone on that bloody trading trip…

DiabloCat: And that's it. The story from several years back now appears on fanfiction. Kinda weird and nostalgic all at once…


End file.
